


don we now our fake romances

by DizzyRedhead



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Background SMH (ensemble), Clueless Straight People, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Practice Kissing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bros being bros, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 06:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyRedhead/pseuds/DizzyRedhead
Summary: Justin notices that Holster is looking a little run-down. But there's no problem that their awesome broness can't solve. Right?Right.





	don we now our fake romances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McBangle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBangle/gifts).



> I was asked to pinch-hit for McBangle and I was honestly so excited because they're an awesome person who is always so supportive and just generally sweet! Also I hadn't written Holsom before and I was excited for the chance. 
> 
> Big thanks to parrishsrubberplant for helping me come up with the title!
> 
> (I thought this was going to get smutty but it wanted to be fluffy. Only rated for some language)

Some things Justin doesn't need Excel for. Sure, it's good for keeping track of grades and budgets and for making pro/con lists. It's a great reality check when his anxiety starts lying to him. But for the really, really important things, he tends to go with his gut--although a quick Excel check never hurts.

Holster starts looking more and more ragged as they pass through October and into November.  When he's unusually quiet through Real Thanksgiving with Justin’s family, and not nearly as enthusiastic about their trip to Buffalo to celebrate American Thanksgiving with his family, Justin knows something is wrong. 

And sure, it could just be adult life. Their consulting gigs are pretty sweet, and sharing an apartment with Lardo, sharing one of those bedrooms with Holster, is honestly a lot like Haus 2.0, just with less homework and fewer kegsters. The only real bummer is the fact that they work in different departments, so they only get to see each other at lunch and outside of work. But Holster is still the same friend he's always been, still down for watching shows or exploring the city. They're solid. Ransom knows this, and Excel confirms it. It's something else.

He tries giving Holster his space, but it doesn't help; if anything, he's more morose, quiet and withdrawn in a way that seems completely foreign to Justin's favorite person. It's not right, Holster shutting down like that. So he makes a plan.

Lardo has a not-a-date with Shitty on Friday--seriously, Justin has no idea who they think they're fooling--so it'll just be the two of them in the apartment. He makes his plans with all the meticulousness he used to apply to his co-captaincy back at Samwell. It feels a little weird to be planning by himself, but he knows Holster well enough that it's almost like having a little mini-Holster on his shoulder, talking him through the steps.

Holster is practically silent on their commute home, communicating only in grunts and monosyllables. Justin's a little worried that he's left things too long, that whatever it is, he won't be able to fix it. But even if the plan doesn't work, he's pretty sure he can at least get Holster to talk to him. So he pushes forward.

"I'm gonna go grab dinner," he says, pausing in front of their building. "Any requests?"

Holster just shrugs, heading inside with a slow, heavy trudge that hurts Justin's heart to look at it. He's got to fix this. He's going to fix this. He sets out with a determined stride, running down the checklist on his phone.

When he gets back to the apartment, bags dangling from his arms, Holster has changed into sweats and a t-shirt and is curled up on the couch, flipping listlessly through Netflix. Justin piles two plates with food and carries them into the living room.

Holster blinks at the plate for a couple of seconds before transferring his gaze to Justin. "You got me latkes?"

Justin shrugs, his face heating under the intensity of that look. "You seemed pretty bummed about something. It's still a few weeks till Hannukah, but I know you'll eat latkes pretty much anytime."

He barely has time to set the plates down on the coffee table before he's being wrapped up in a Holster Hug.

"You're the best," Holster says, the words muffled against Justin's shoulder. "I'm sorry I've been--"

"You don't have to apologize," Justin interrupts, hugging back. "You never have to apologize, bro. I'm gonna go get changed before I spill applesauce on my shirt and then maybe you can talk to me about it?"

Holster nods. "Yeah, I--yeah."

* * *

Holster leans back into the couch cushions, eyeing the last couple of latkes with an expression Justin recognizes.

"Bro. You know you're gonna be miserable if you keep eating. You can warm them up for breakfast tomorrow."

"They're better when they're fresh," Holster whines, but he pushes the plate away.

Justin shakes his head fondly, clearing the dishes off the coffee table and taking them to the kitchen to get the temptation out of sight. "Are you ready to talk about it now?"

Holster sighs, long and gusty. "Honestly, it's stupid. I feel stupid for making it such a big deal."

"Your feelings aren't stupid," Justin counters, tucking the leftover food into containers and putting them in the fridge. "They might be wrong sometimes, but they're not stupid."

"It's my boss," Holster finally says. "Lucia. She's--she's not a bad person."

Justin waits for a few more minutes, crossing the small living area to settle back onto the couch. "But?"

"But she keeps trying to set me up." Holster rubs at his eyes. "I've told her over and over again that I'm not interested in dating right now. Learning this job is taking basically all my attention and mental capacity; it wouldn't be fair to someone to ask them to deal with only having a tiny fraction of my attention. But I swear the woman has eight million nieces and cousins and friends-of-friends and she keeps waving them under my nose. At least ten of them have come to have lunch with her in the last month. Only she'll have something urgent come up and then ask me to take them out to lunch so they don't have to eat alone."

Justin's eyes are so wide they're almost aching by this point. "Bro. Seriously?"

Holster shakes his head. "Dead fucking serious. They're all really nice, too, so I feel bad. But even if I was looking for a relationship right now, none of them are my type."

"That's serious bullshit," Justin says, rubbing a hand over the tense muscles in Holster's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, bro. I wish there was something I could do."

"It'll be okay," Holster says, leaning into Justin's touch. "Just talking about it is helping. It's like, when it was just me, it was hard to remember that this isn't normal or okay, you know?"

Justin nudges Holster around so he can get at those tense muscles better. "You know I'm here for you. You can't hold this shit in, Holtzy."

"I know, I know," Holster mutters.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, except for the noises Holster makes when Justin finds a particularly tight knot of muscle. It's almost meditative, which is probably why his brain decides to present him with the perfect solution to the problem. He turns it over for a minute, checking for problems, but nothing comes to mind.

"Hey, Holtzy," he says softly, just in case Holster's fallen asleep.

"Hmmm?"

"I think I know how to solve your problem."

Holster turns around to face him, shaking his head a little. "Oh, yeah? I always knew you were smarter than me. C'mon, spill."

Justin feels his face heating for the second time that night. "The company holiday party is in a couple of weeks. I can be your date. Just spend the next few weeks talking about your boyfriend, and then we can be all coupley at the party and seal the deal. Besides, I want you to meet my team. They're pretty swawesome people; I think you'd like them."

As soon as he starts talking, there's a little ball of nerves in his stomach. He watches Holster's face as he speaks, looking for a reaction. It doesn't take long for a big, bright, familiar smile to cross Holster's face.

"Bro. You'd do that for me?"

"Sure." Justin shrugs. "I don't have time for dating right now either. And if it gets your boss off your back, and gets me my friend back, well. Totally worth it."

That earns him another Holster Hug. "If you're sure--"

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure," Justin says firmly. "Now I'm gonna go get my laptop and we're gonna Excel the shit out of this motherfucker."

* * *

As it turns out, faking a relationship with Holster is probably the easiest thing Justin has ever done in, like, his entire life. Their anniversary is, of course, the day they first played together.

"You remember the date, too?" Holster asks, his eyes wide.

Justin looks up from his laptop. "Bro, that day changed my life. Of course I remember it."

They go to change their relationship status on Facebook, but both burst into sheepish laughter. Somehow they'd forgotten the prank where the frogs changed their relationship status to "married" to each other during their co-captain year. Neither of them has bothered to change it, and almost every picture of one of them has the other in it.

Justin checks that task off the list, too.

"Okay, you should probably have some pictures of us for your desk," he says, glancing over the list. "I've already got that one of us at graduation--"

Holster makes some kind of noise that interrupts his train of thought. "I, uh, have that one on my desk, too."

"Bro." Justin shakes his head. "Are you sure we aren't actually married?"

Holster just shrugs.

"Well, we already know each other's likes and dislikes." Justin closes the laptop. "So I guess the only thing left to do before the party is to just get used to mentioning your boyfriend at work? And I will, too."

"Swawesome." Holster already looks so much better than he has for the last month. Justin feels a little bad that it took him this long to do something about it, but they were both kind of engrossed in the moving and starting new jobs and whatnot.

Still, though, he resolves to be a better friend. To not get so wrapped up in his own shit that he doesn't notice when his bro needs him. 

"Rans?" The hesitant question pulls him out of his reverie.

"Yeah?"

Holster hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head. "Never mind, it's dumb."

"Bro, spit it out." Justin gives Holster his full attention. 

"Well, if we're pretending to be boyfriends--" Holster pauses, clearly searching for words. "We wouldn't necessarily change how we're acting at work, because professionalism and shit, but at the party, won't people expect us to be all touching and kissing and shit? Like, I honestly don't know if Lucia will actually believe it if we just act like we normally do."

Justin nods thoughtfully. "Probably. We don't have to if that makes you uncomfortable--"

"No, that's--it's fine," Holster says. Possibly a shade too hastily, but probably Justin's anxiety is just making him see things that aren't there. "It's not like it's the first time, right? And everybody is really cool; I don't even think Lucia would have a problem with it. She's not homophobic, she's just got some serious heteronormativity going on."

"Okay then," Justin says. "I don't have a problem with it, either. We should probably practice, though. Before the party. Just so it doesn't look weird."

Holster grabs his beer off the coffee table and takes a gulp, his throat moving as he swallows. "Yeah, probably. Nothing too big."

Justin sets his hand on Holster's thigh, suddenly overly aware of a movement he wouldn't have thought twice about five minutes ago. "Yeah. Keep it subtle, keep it classy. No making out at work."

That gets a laugh out of Holster, just like he'd hoped it would. "Yup. No kegster grinding or anything."

Holster's hand settles over Justin's, big and warm. It's easy to turn his hand over and lace their fingers together, easy and somehow natural.

"So," Holster says after a minute. "Cuddle and watch something?"

"Sure." Justin lets go of Holster's hand so he can start up the latest episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Once the remote is back on the coffee table, though, he arranges them on the couch in what they've long since determined is the optional cuddling position that also allows both of them to see the TV.

And it's not like they don't do this all the fucking time, Justin tucked between Holster's spread legs, Holster's arm loosely around his waist, but Justin is suddenly aware of how it would look to anyone who doesn't know them. 

But he doesn't care. Because his best bro needs help, and honestly? It's really nice, having Holster wrapped around him like this, solid and comforting. It helps quiet the little low-grade buzz of anxiety in the back of Justin's brain, lets him relax and just be. It's nice.

"Thanks," Holster murmurs during one of the commercial breaks.

Justin doesn't have to ask what for. "Anytime."

Holster's hand squeezes his. It's a perfect moment. Justin does his best to fix the memory in his mind, something he can take out and wrap around himself like a blanket when he needs comfort.

Nothing really changes, over the next few weeks. They still eat lunch together in the break room, but now Holster hooks their ankles together under the table and Justin squeezes his hand when he gets up to leave. It's surprisingly easy to start saying "my boyfriend" when he talks about Holster, and nobody on his team bats an eye. 

Holster looks a little less harried in the evenings, now. He's laughing again; Justin didn't realize how long it had been since he'd heard Holster really laugh until he heard it booming through their apartment and something unknotted in his chest. 

* * *

Honestly, the only thing that's a little weird is the kissing.

They both agree that the thing most likely to trip them up is kissing, just because they're not really used to it. Bro-style cheek kisses, sure. But not the chaste pecks or slightly lingering liplocks of people in a relationship. 

Since practice makes perfect, there's clearly only one thing to do.

Justin brings it up the evening after they first reach their decision. 

"So, what?" Holster pauses briefly in his attempts to inhale all of the Thai takeout they'd stopped for on the way home. "Do you have a kissing schedule we need to start?"

Justin ducks his head. "It's more of a timeline," he mutters.

When he finally looks up, Holster is smiling at him, warm and soft. "I should've known you'd have my back. So when do we start?"

He's expecting it to be weird, is the thing. Justin is well aware that he and Holster are closer than most best bros, but platonic snuggles are one thing. Relationship-style kissing is another. 

But in this, as in so many other things, they just--fit. Justin tilts his head one way, Holster tilts his the other, and they both lean in at the same time, lips meeting softly. It's one of the best first kisses Justin has ever had.

"A++," Holster declares when they break apart, smiling again. "Ten out of ten, would kiss again."

"Good," Justin says. "Because otherwise we'd have to break up."

* * *

In the end, by the time the party rolls around, Justin has almost forgotten that they're pretending. They already live together, after all. They commute together and eat lunch together and text each other whenever they get a chance. It's been long enough that even the kissing is just something that they do; a quick peck before they go into work, another when they leave the building at the end of the day. It's like a clear demarcation of the moment when he can let go of work Justin and just be himself.

Whenever he thinks about not having it anymore, it makes everything go a little funny in his stomach, so he tries not to think about it. It's not hard; they're all scrambling to wrap up their projects before Christmas, so there's plenty to distract him. Especially since, as the newbie and the person at the absolute bottom of the ladder, all the time-consuming, mind-numbing work lands on his desk.

So it's almost a surprise when Holster leans into his shoulder on their morning commute and says, "Party tonight. You still good?"

"Yeah," Justin returns. Because it's the truth. He's still 100% on board with everything they've planned. And any uncertainty he has about what happens next--well, it's all worth it for the smile Holster gives him, Holster's hand squeezing his.

They make it through the workday. The party is going to be at some nice downtown bar that's closer to the office than to their apartment, so they find each other in the crowds of coworkers walking that direction.

"Hey, babe," Justin says when Holster's hand slides into his, grateful for the weeks of practice that let his tongue not trip over the endearment. "How was your day?" 

"Same old, same old," Holster says, pulling him close enough to press a kiss to his temple. "Is this your team?"

Justin looks around him. "Yeah, this is pretty much everybody. Mikki, Jackson, Emma, Tammy, and you already met Braden the other day at lunch. Everybody, this is my boyfriend H--Adam."

"Already forgetting your boyfriend's name, Justin?" Mikki teases gently.

Holster grins. "Nah, we met playing hockey in college, so I think we're both more used to being called by our nicknames than our actual names. Every time someone calls me Adam or him Justin it takes me a minute to realize who we're talking about."

"So what were these infamous hockey nicknames?" Braden asks. "I've heard about some weird ones."

"Well, his last name is Birkholtz, so they somehow got from that to Holster--"

"And Oluransi got turned into Ransom for him--"

For some reason this exchange has Ransom's team bursting into laughter. Which isn't terribly surprising; Holster's always been able to make people laugh, but it's a little unusual for Justin.

"You guys have been together forever, huh?" Emma says, her eyes soft as she looks at them.

"Four years and counting," Holster replies, squeezing Justin's hand. "But yeah, sometimes it feels like it. You know when you meet someone and you just click?"

They arrive at the bar before anyone can comment further. Not that Justin is ashamed of Holster or anything. Not that he disagrees with anything he'd said. But he can't help feeling a little under a microscope, and he's grateful for the shift in attention.

"Everything okay?" Holster murmurs in his ear as they're checking their coats.

Justin shrugs, trying to relax his shoulders. "Yeah, I'm good. It's just a lot of attention, you know?"

Holster wraps a hand around the back of his neck, squeezing gently. "I know. It'll get better once we're not the only couple, when some of the significant others get here. And until then, I'm here, okay?"

"Okay."

"C'mon," Holster says, letting go after another comforting squeeze, but immediately taking Justin's hand. "I see Eric over there; I've been trying to introduce you two for ages."

Eric, Holster's "work-bro" that Justin had been a little jealous of for maybe five seconds when they started the job--okay, for a week, whatever--is a short, dapper black man in an immaculate suit. He lights up when he sees Holster approaching. "Hey, man. Wasn't sure if you were coming to this."

"Never turn down free food or free booze," Holster says cheerfully. "Anyway, I wanted to introduce you to my boyfriend, Justin. Justin, this is Eric."

"Nice to meet you," Eric says, holding out a hand. "Adam won't shut up about you some days. My fiancee is around here somewhere, but the four of us should double-date sometime."

Justin smiles back. "That sounds like fun. Definitely."

Eric leans in a little closer. "Also, if you'd like to have lunch sometime, let me know. This is a nice place to work, but--"

"But it's super white?" Justin finishes, feeling himself relax a little further. 

"Yup." Eric returns his smile. "Adam has my number if you want to text me sometime."

They chat for a few more minutes; Eric's fiancee, Ashanti, slides seamlessly into the conversation when she returns. But then they get pulled away to talk to someone else, leaving Justin and Holster alone for a minute in the crowded room.

Another couple approaches them, two men this time. "Hey, Mike," Holster says, offering his hand to one of the men.

"Nice to see you two together," Mike says after they've made the introductions. "Be sure you introduce your boyfriend to Lucia before you leave."

Justin can't help but stiffen, but there's no spitefulness on either man's face. 

"Mike was Lucia's assistant before me," Holster says. "And I'm guessing she pulled the same kind of shit on you, too?"

"I wore my ring every day and had our wedding picture on my desk."Mike shrugs. "She saw what she wanted to see. But once I introduced her to Scott as my husband, she did stop. Actually still sends us a Christmas card every year."

"Well, in that case," Holster says lightly, tugging gently on Justin's hand. "We should probably circulate in that direction." 

Lucia smiles when she sees them approaching. "Adam! I'm so glad you came. And who's this?"

"Lucia, this is my boyfriend, Justin," Holster says, wrapping a proprietary arm around Justin's waist. "Babe, this is my boss, Lucia."

Lucia's face is incredibly expressive, Justin can see surprise, followed by understanding, followed by embarrassment. But she offers him her hand without hesitation. "It's nice to meet you, Justin. Adam is doing amazingly; I don't know what I did without him."

"He is pretty cool," Justin agrees. He's pretty sure they've accomplished their goal here, so he decides to let her off the hook. "C'mon, babe, I want to introduce you to someone else." 

"Enjoy yourselves," Lucia says, turning back to the person she was talking to before they arrived.

Justin introduces Holster to the last member of his team, Kylie, and they have a nice time chatting about the Bruins and the Falconers for the rest of the evening, even if most of the people they talk to don't believe that they know Jack Zimmerman until Holster pulls out the pictures.

"Well," Holster says on the train home that evening. "That worked really well. I mean, it was your plan, so I figured it would. But seriously, thank you."

Justin bumps his shoulder into Holsters. "You know you don't have to thank me, bro."

"Yeah, I do," Holster says, his voice unusually serious. "You always know what I need, sometimes before I do. I don't want you to think I don't notice, or that I don't appreciate it. Because I do."

"I'd do a lot more for you than pretend to be your boyfriend," Justin says, grateful his skin doesn't show the heat he can feel rising in his cheeks. "Whatever you need."

The train pulls into their stop and they make their way to the street, heading toward their apartment in familiar, comfortable silence. They've made this walk a hundred times or more since graduation, so it takes Justin almost the entire trip to their building before he realizes that the subtle feeling of wrongness comes from not having Holster's hand in his. It takes all three flights of stairs before he decides what to do about it. 

"Hey," he says quietly once the door closes behind them.

"Yeah?"

Holster's eyes are so bright, the clear blue so familiar and yet brand new. How has Justin never really noticed before how gorgeous they are.

"I, uh--" he stutters over his words. "I liked it. Pretending to be your boyfriend. It was nice."

"It was the same stuff we always do," Holster says softly.

Justin nods, then shakes his head. "Yeah, but. I liked--I liked the touching. And the kissing. I think I'd like it even better if--if it was real."

"You mean--" Holster's whole face lights up. "Hey, Rans?"

"Yeah?"

Holster slides a hand around the back of his neck, pulls him in closer. "Do you want to be my boyfriend? For real this time?"

Justin has to laugh, he's so happy. "I really do."

"Swawesome," Holster laughs.

The kiss, their first real kiss, is even better than Justin expected. Just like the first time on the ice, they read each other's moves without thinking. When their lips meet, it's soft and sweet and perfect. 

They're both smiling like idiots when they break apart, still so close that Justin can feel Holster's breath on his lips.

"We're kinda dumb, huh?" Holster says softly. "We could've been doing this for years."

"Nah," Justin says, although he kind of sees his point. "I think it's perfect." 

Holster leans back in, kisses him gently. "Well, I think you're perfect."

* * *

The only surprising thing is how unsurprised everyone is. 

When Lardo gets home that night, she takes one look at them on the couch, flushed and disheveled from the making out her entrance had interrupted, and only says, "Fucking finally," before disappearing into her room. 

“We should probably say something in the group chat,” Justin says reluctantly. He doesn’t want to deal with the chirping when he could be kissing Holster, or touching him, or pulling him back into their room and--he forcibly wrenches his thoughts back on track.

“Probably,” Holster says, just as reluctantly, his hands sliding up under the hem of Justin’s shirt, warm against his skin. 

Justin forces himself to sit up, to find his phone--which has somehow relocated itself to the floor on the far side of the coffee table. He opens the group chat and hesitates a moment. But when he looks over at Holster, smiling soft and sweet, his shirt half-unbuttoned and his hair all rumpled from Justin’s hands, it’s easy to tap out the message.

_ The Ransomater: So Holtzy and I are dating _

He waits for a breathless moment, the little dancing dots of many people typing stealing the air from his lungs. And then the explosion, one message right after the other.

_ Sexy Dexy: uh, yeah? _

_ Hello, Nurse: bro, everybody knows that _

_ Bitty: congrats! Glad you 2 finally decided 2 make it official! _

_ Shitty: I fu ckin’ knew ittt _

_ Jack: congratulations! _

When Justin looks up, Holster is just looking up from his own phone. “I guess we’re the last ones to figure it out, huh?”

Justin shrugs, setting his phone down and climbing back into Holster’s lap. “We got there in the end, though. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah,” Holster agrees, pulling him closer. “Let’s wait until tomorrow to tell our parents, ‘kay?”

* * *

“That’s great, Justin,” his mom says warmly over the speakerphone. “I’m so glad you two finally felt comfortable enough to tell us.”

Justin looks over at Holster, who shrugs, and decides to let the “finally” pass. “Okay, well, we’ll see you at Christmas. But we should probably call H--Adam’s family now and tell them. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Love you,  _ olohun mi, _ ” his mom says.

“Love you too.”

Calling Holster’s family goes almost exactly the same, but they managed to get the call in before Justin’s mom texted Holster’s mom, so there’s that. As soon as they hang up the call, though, they get a text from Justin’s youngest sister.

_ Ife: congrats on finally figuring your shit out. i bet Jaiye $20 you two wouldn’t actually get together for another year, so thanks a lot for that _ __   
_ Ife: i can’t believe Mom thinks you guys have been dating for years _ _   
_ __ Ife: ur both too dumb for that

_ Justin: I resent that _ _   
_ _ Justin: but ur right _

_ Ife: i knew it!!! _ _   
_ _ Ife: but anyway congrats and stuff _

_ Justin: thanks :D :D :D  _

Holster laughs when he reads over Justin’s shoulder. “She’s pretty smart.”

“Yeah,” Justin agrees, locking his phone and turning to kiss the laugh off his boyfriend’s face. 

“But you’re prettier,” Holster declares loyally when they break apart.

It’s Justin’s turn to laugh. He thinks that should have been his first clue, really, how Holster always makes him laugh. “It’s probably too soon to say this--”

“No it isn’t,” Holster interrupts, his eyes still shining. “I love you, too, Rans.”

Justin waits for the anxiety to well up in his stomach, but instead the words settle in his chest, a softly glowing warmth. They just fit, like he and Holster always have, from that very first day.

They’re perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like tooth-rotting fluff of this kind, you can [follow me on Tumblr](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com).


End file.
